| English version / Versione inglese / Version anglaise / Englanninkielinen... |
THE LAST TROLLEYBUS | THE LAST TROLLEYBUS |
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When it’s beyond me to get o'er bad news | When I can't get over calamitous woes, |
When I feel choked with despair | When bitter despair draws near, |
I jump on a blue trolleybus on the route | I jump into moving blue trolley on toes, - |
The last one, chance bestowed | The last one, I fear. |
I jump on a blue trolleybus on the route | I jump into moving blue trolley on toes, - |
The last one, chance bestowed | The last one, I fear. |
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The last trolleybus, speed up along streets | My last trolley, race along dark city streets, |
And shuttle the boulevard lace tiers | Run circles through boulevard alleys, |
To take on your board those who are just like me | To put all, who crashed in the night, in your seats, |
Night wreckage survivors | To round your tally. |
To take on your board those who are just like me | To put all, who crashed in the night, in your seats, |
Night wreckage survivors | To round your tally. |
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The last trolleybus, through doors let me in | My last trolley, open your doors for me too! |
I know so well how at midnight | I know that your passengers-sailors |
Your passengers like your crew members at sea | Will come to my rescue, will help me get through |
Are here to succour | The cold midnight failures. |
Your passengers like your crew members at sea | Will come to my rescue, will help me get through |
Are here to succour | The cold midnight failures. |
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With them, I not once had a narrow escape | With them I escaped from the trouble not once, |
When we touched shoulders in those aisles | With them I rubbed elbows in silence... |
Just fancy all kindness that has to be there, | For silence reveals so much truth in its stance |
In silence, in silence | And kindness, and kindness. |
Just fancy all kindness that has to be there, | For silence reveals so much truth in its stance |
In silence, in silence | And kindness, and kindness. |
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The last trolleybus floats Moscow at night | The last trolley glides across Moscow unheard, |
And river-like Moscow gets quiet | As city subsides like a river, |
The ache which has pecked like a thrash from inside | And pain that was throbbing the temples like bird |
Is dying, is dying | Will wither, will wither. |
The ache which has pecked like a thrash from inside | And pain that was throbbing the temples like bird |
Is dying, is dying | Will wither, will wither. |